Communion Blood (20 page)

The delight vanished from her face. “What is it?”

“Keep it. Let it if you and Ilirio five elsewhere; put by the money it earns for yourself. I have prepared the deed so that it can only be sold by you, and that it remains your property during your marriage, and cannot be subsumed by your husband to his estates, or be attached through any claim of his family.” He had included a provision for her heirs, but thought it would be tactless to mention that just now.

“How can you do this?” she asked, curious and indignant at once. “I am not your relative, to allow you to deed this place to me in such a fashion.”

“It is done,” Ragoczy said firmly; he had found an obscure law from the thirteenth century that allowed property to be willed to female heirs to establish a residence for any widowed or unmarried women who might otherwise be unable to obtain a residence and be cast destitute upon the world. “You may want something of your own one day.”

She laughed delightedly. “Ilirio is very rich and his family name is ancient. How can I lack for anything now?”

Ragoczy smiled but there was sadness at the back of his dark eyes. “Old fortunes are not built on philanthropy. You do not know what constraints may be upon Ilirio to keep his wealth in his family’s hands, to the detriment of his widow—his second wife—in favor of his children.”

“That isn’t a nice thing to say,” she pouted.

“Perhaps not, but it is a concern,” Ragoczy told her. “If your husband’s family—which is powerful and ancient, as you have said— should lay claims against you, it would ease your situation to have something of your own in the world.”

“I have many jewels, most of them are gifts from you,” she reminded him. “I will not part with them lightly.” Her charismatic smile faded completely. “I do not want it said I have taken advantage of you.”

He studied her face, contemplating her mix of art and ambition. “If I do not say that, then who in Roma can make such a claim.”

“You know how people talk,” she said darkly. “They say women who accept such extravagant gifts do it to ruin their benefactors.”

“They say that when men come to impoverishment; surely you don’t suppose that will happen to me.” He stroked her hand gently. “In indulging you, whom do I deprive? What disadvantage is there in providing this villa for you?”

“But, Conte, you are generosity itself, and you are still very rich. Aren’t you?” There was a quaver in her voice as she asked the last.

“Oh, yes. I am exceedingly wealthy. And mine is a special case.” He sat more comfortably on the bed. “I have very few. .. relations to provide for, and no children. I can afford to be eleemosynary on a large scale: Ilirio cannot.”

“But I do not seek alms or charity, Conte. I will be his
tvife.
Surely he will not leave me without means. .. when he ... he dies.” She held on to Ragoczy’s hand very tightly. “And he is not
that
old—only fifty-eight.”

“And no novice at marriage,” Ragoczy agreed. “But it is not Ilirio who might deprive you of your inheritance. He has six surviving children, and they might make claims against your legacy.”

“You only think that because of Signor’ Aulirios; he makes you worry that everyone might be set upon in court,” she said, as if relieved to be spared any more concern about her good fortune. “Still, if you wish it, I will keep this villa as a kind of remembrance of you, as I will keep the jewels you have given me.”

“Grazie, Giorgianna,” said Ragoczy, and was startled when she moved swiftly to wrap her arms around his neck.

“One last time, Conte, please,” she said teasingly before she kissed him eagerly.

This might be dangerous to her after she died, and for that reason he faltered. “Ilirio might not like it,” he said with a wry smile to account for his hesitation; he did not know how to explain the risk he now posed to her in a way that she would believe or accept, and yet her yearning tugged at him with all the force of her emotions.

She kissed him again. “He will not mind that I say farewell to one who has been so very kind to me.”

He could feel her longing in her touch, and that alone weakened his resolve. If only he did not sense her so keenly! If only her craving were not so overwhelming! He reached out and touched her cheek. “You don’t know what you are seeking.”

“Oh, yes I do. You have lain with me four times, and each time was . .. bliss; better even than singing. I cannot hope to find the same in Ilirio, admirable though he may be in other ways. So.” She locked her fingers behind his neck, under his clubbed hair, and drew him toward her. “One last time, Conte. Te prego.”

He saw the passion in her eyes, a passion she usually reserved for her music, and he was caught by her fervor. “If you will not curse me, carina, what can I be but honored?”

“Why should I curse you?” she teased, pulling him with her as she lay back on the bounty of pillows. “I would be more likely to curse you if you were to refuse me this last favor.” She melted into his embrace, all but purring with satisfaction. “It would be cruelty to deny me,” she murmured as she opened her lips to his. The kiss was long, gradually growing in intensity, a poco a poco crescendo of exaltation that was as thrilling as any she had ever sung. Desire mounted within her as their kiss lengthened and deepened. When she finally drew back, her pulse was racing and her cheeks were flushed. “Ah, Conte; I am going to miss you.”

He stretched out beside her, taking his pace from her burgeoning need. “And I you, carina.” He had removed his gloves upon his arrival at the villa, so his small, beautiful hands were unencumbered as he unfastened the satin ribbon at the top of her corsage, gently caressing the swell of her breast, tracing its opulent curve with attentive care, feeling her appetence and his esurience increase together.

“How do you know where to touch?” she marveled, as her senses grew more acute. “Where did you learn such things?”

“From you, carina,” he said, his tone soft and deep as he bent his head to tongue her nipple, taking pleasure from the shiver of satisfaction that went through her. He opened her corsage, fully revealing her flesh, sumptuous as a pagan goddess painted by Rubens.

“How sweet this is,” Giorgianna whispered as a glorious frenzy continued to well in her blood and she moved to fill his hands with the whole of her as his adept arousal continued. She let her sheets slide away from her, as if removing the wrapper from a valuable gift. She felt as if her body were wax deliciously melting and molding through his ardor; her excitement increased with the realization that she could inspire such veneration in him that he sought to offer her this luxurious gratification. She closed her eyes so that she could experience his virtuosity more totally, how his small hands teased and coaxed delectation from every part of her, how his mouth awakened frissons of anticipation, how he found the hidden bud at the apex of her thighs that trembled and pulsed eagerly with every new caress he bestowed upon her. Slowly her breathing changed, and slowly she felt release gather deep within her. “No,” she protested as she took hold of his shoulder, not wanting this glorious intimacy to end.

Ragoczy stopped at once. “This is not to your liking?” He was surprised, for he knew her response was genuine. “Have I done anything—”

She sighed her exasperation. “I wanted to have longer, that’s all.”

He understood his mistake at once. “Your pardon, carina. What may I do to restore your pleasure?” His hands again sought the pet- aled grotto at the core of her arousal.

“Do everything. Everything. Oh, go on; go on,” she urged him, distantly vexed that he could have misunderstood. Sighing, she strove to recapture the excitation she had mistimed; gradually her desire rekindled and grew beyond what she had reached before. Every nuance of stimulation increased her rapture; her entire being trembled with the immensity of her need, as vibrant as a violin in the hands of a master.
As
her passion reached culmination and he nuzzled her neck, she began to laugh with a joy she had not known before, as all- encompassing as the rapture that rocked her. Far sooner than she had hoped, the jubilant delirium began to fade, leaving her replete but wistful as she basked in her happiness on her satin pillows and her gladsomely rumpled bed. “Ah, Conte,” she sighed. “How do you know me so well?”

Her fulfillment had revealed her abiding craving, needs wrought in childhood that no gratification could fully alleviate. Her appetite, unlike his, could not be assuaged. He was also aware that she expected no answer and would have been distracted by anything he said, so he kissed the comer of her mouth as he rose on his elbow. There was still enough ecstasy in her that this made her heart leap.

“And you’re not a bit disheveled,” she went on, watching him languidly. She began to play with the ribbon-ties of her corsage. “You need hardly do more than straighten your neck-bands to walk outside in perfect form.” She wanted to chide him, but all she managed to do was to sound slightly envious. “I must look a fright.”

“Hardly that,” Ragoczy said with a mix of affection and amusement. “To me you look tantalizing and magnificent.”

“But you are supposed to—” she began, then stopped herself. “No. I will not wrangle with you, not this day.” She reached out and touched his face. “You cannot imagine how much I am going to miss you.”

“I know how much I will miss you: that will have to suffice.” He kissed her again, this time in the center of her forehead.

“Oh, dear,” she said as he did this. For a long moment she studied his attractive, irregular features; then she sighed. “You truly
are
leaving me, aren’t you? Men only kiss me in that place to say farewell.” Ragoczy chose his words carefully. “This is not quite farewell. There are a few more things you and I must deal with before I say that.” His voice was low and his dark eyes held hers. “For your sake.” “You’re not going to be dreary, are you, Conte?” she challenged him. “You have already given me two warnings, and if this is another—Well, whatever it is, it can wait.”

Ragoczy continued to direct his penetrating gaze at her. “There is

something I must tell you: about what may become of you.”

“You’ve already done that,” she said. “And if there is anything more, perhaps we will discuss it when we meet again. But not now. I am not inclined to hear anything dreary just now, and from your expression, you want to tell me something ponderous.” She ran her fingers down the fine brocade of his justaucorps. “For now I want to relish all you have given me. We will have time to be private with one another, never fear.”

He caught her hand in his. “This is not something that can be put aside forever, and we will not have many opportunities to talk. Gior- gianna, carina, I do not think your affianced husband would be pleased if I continued to pay court to you,” Ragoczy said, his tone level but kindly. “It may be awkward enough that you will continue to sing the Vestal Virgin; I cannot think you would want to give him any grounds to doubt your fidelity.”

She stared at him. “Are you mocking me?’ she demanded suspiciously.

“Certainly not,” he replied, soothing her. “I would never mock you, Giorgianna: believe this. I am trying to show you that I regard your marriage as highly as any, and that I wish to do nothing to diminish the esteem Ilirio has for you.” Now he kissed her hand and rose from the bed. “But there is something you must know.”

Her face became petulant. “Not now, Conte. I am too happy and too sad to discuss anything more with you today.” She waved him away from her.

“It is important,” he insisted.

“Then we will take a few minutes during tomorrow’s rehearsal, when everyone else is at lunch, and you will explain it to me: tomorrow,” she said, as if he had just imposed a burden upon her. “That will suffice, won’t it?”

He realized she would not permit him to say anything more today; he made a leg. “If that is your wish, I would be ungracious to require anything else.” He took his hat and went to the door. “Until tomorrow, carina.”

She watched him, a trace of regret in her eyes. “Have Edmea bring me up some chocolate, will you?”

“It will be my pleasure,” he said, and bowed himself out of her room. He stood in the corridor for a long moment, contemplating what he should say to her when she finally allowed him to speak. Giorgianna was not inclined to put much faith in anything men told her and that alone made his task doubly difficult, for she would not be apt to believe any counsel he might give her. He started for the staircase, his step brisk as if nothing weighed upon him. At the foot of the stairs he found Edmea waiting, her hair covered by a servant’s cap, her simple housedress clean, her demeanor quiet.

“You are leaving, Eccellenza?” she asked.

“Yes, I am,” he told her, adding, “Your mistress would like a cup of chocolate.”

Edmea curtsied. “Very good, Eccellenza. Bortolo will see you out.”

“Grazie,” he said, as he handed her a silver coin before making his way to the front door where Bortolo was waiting for him. “Never mind bringing my horse around. I will attend to her myself.”

Bortolo had been in service most of his life and had schooled himself to reveal little of his thoughts or feelings. “Very good, Signor’ Conte,” he said, bowing and opening the door.

Again Ragoczy handed over a silver coin. “You have done well by your mistress.”

“She is a great lady, no matter what the world may think of singers,” Bortolo said with as much determination as he was capable of expressing.

“You will get no dispute from me,” Ragoczy assured the major- domo as he left the house and walked around the side to the stable, where he found his mare loose-girthed and watered. As he checked and tightened the girth, he heard a noise from the street and saw half a dozen ill-dressed young men gathering at the head of the alley. All of them carried wooden clubs, and they approached with the insolent swagger of men used to bullying others. Ragoczy betrayed no alarm, finishing his work without apparent haste. Then he loosed his horse from her rein-cleat, vaulted into the saddle, as he pulled the reins into his hand and reached for his long crop which had hung from a clip on the saddle. Abruptly he spun the mare around, and faced the young men who were making their way in his direction.